Cancer
by Rainbow-Velociraptor
Summary: AU: Matthew Williams had been diagnosed with brain cancer, and the disease is now terminal. This is the story of Matthew Williams, the boy that no one noticed him until he died. Being rewritten.
1. Death

**Title ;; Cancer**

**Rating ;; T **

**Summary ;; Matthew has been diagnosed with brain cancer, and the disease is terminal. This is the story of Matthew Williams, the boy that no one noticed him until he died.**

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><p><em><strong>Cancer<strong>_

_"Mr. Williams?" _

_The doctor's voice was drenched in sadness. Matthew's worries were coming true. _

_"I'm sorry, Mr. Williams, but you have cancer of the brain. You had a baseball-size tumor on your brain, and there's no way to treat it. We didn't find it early enough, and the tumor has grown and spread throughout your body. I'm sorry, but . . . there's nothing we can do." _

_How could this be happening? Why was it happening to him? _

_"H-how long do I have to l-live?" His mouth was dry; he could barely even speak or stand. _

_"I'd estimate about six months."_

_Six. Six months. That's all the time he had left. _

_"I'm sorry, Mr. Williams."_

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><p><em><strong>1st Stage :: Denial<strong>_

"T-there's no way! This isn't happening to me. It can't happen to me. That doctor has no idea what he's talking about. I'm fine."

He was in denial. He was lying to himself. He just couldn't bring himself to believe the doctor's words. He couldn't have cancer. He felt fine . . . That was a lie, too.

He hadn't felt well in months. It all started with a headache that just wouldn't go away. He tried everything to ease the pain, but nothing worked. He had trouble seeing, even with his glasses on, and recently, he'd been vomiting at random points in time. When it was just the headaches, he thought nothing of it and worked through the pain. The blurred-eye vision caused him to worry, but he refused to go to the doctor. It was when he started regurgitating his meals he forced himself to go to the doctor.

He now wished he had gone earlier. But there was nothing he could do now but accept it, but he refused to do so.

"There's no way I have cancer. I'll be fine, just you wait."

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><p><em><strong>2nd Stage :: Anger<strong>_

There was a pressure in his stomach that would just not go away. It bubbled inside him, and the more he thought about it, the harder the pressure pushed on his stomach. He didn't know what the pressure was. But he had the urge to throw things against the wall. He had the urge to yell and scream until his throat was numb. He had the urge to destroy and break everything around him.

This pressure inside of him was anger. Matthew had never really dealt with extreme anger. Sure he had been pissed at Alfred for being an asshole and mad at everyone else who never noticed him, but the anger was never as extreme as this.

He didn't know how to handle it. He had been trying to hold it in, but now it was too much. He had to vent or break something, quick. So he picked up a glass, and threw it against the wall, watching it shatter into a million pieces.

It still wasn't enough. He wanted to blame someone, but no one else was there with him.

No one else even knew he had a terminal disease and that he was going to die in five months. He began to doubt no one would ever notice.

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><p><em><strong>3rd Stage :: Barginning<strong>_

"Please, I'll do anything to live for a little while longer."

It was pointless barginning with something that has already been decided, but Matthew couldn't help but do it. Why was God so cruel to him? Why did he have to die? What did he do that was so bad for him to die now?

"Please, let me live."

He didn't know who he was pleading to. Perhaps God, perhaps nobody. He just had the urge to plead for his life.

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><p><em><strong>4th Stage :: Depression<strong>_

He was just so sad. He was so weak. He now only had two months to live.

He lived in the hospital now. The doctor's had him stay there since he lived alone. They didn't want him to die and then have his deceased body rot in his house.

Matthew cried on a daily basis now. He was so sad and weak and lonely.

"Why do I even bother living now? Why are they keeping me alive? Just kill me already. Please."

That's all he wanted. But they just wouldn't do it. Instead, they made him suffer through the pain. They just sat there and watched him die. It made Matthew sick. Those digusting sadists. Do they enjoy watching a person die painfully slow?

A few months ago, Matthew would have been angry. But now . . . he thought there was no point in getting angry. It wasn't worth the energy.

After this, Matthew's blue eyes began to water. He couldn't help but cry . . . he was just so sad.

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><p><em><strong>5th Stage :: Acceptance<strong>_

He was ready. He was ready to move on to the next life.

"It's okay now. I can't fight this. I may as well prepare for it."

Matthew slept so much now. He'd wake up in the morning, and an hour later, he'd be fast asleep once again. He was preparing for his death. He didn't eat as much, and found it difficult to do anything but sleep and talk. He could barely even stand or walk. It was pitiful.

But Matthew finally accepted his fate. He was going to die this month, and he was ready for it. It was only a matter of time . . .

Matthew was litterly lying on his death bed. And as he layed there, he thought about his family. He never told them about his disease. He never mentioned it to Alfred. He never said anything to France or England or Prussia. He hadn't had contact with anyone in the past six months. He isolated himself for the past six months. He just couldn't tell them. It was too hard.

He knew they'd find out soon through. The hospital would call them, informing them of his death. That thought made him cry. He could picture it now. He saw tears in the eyes of his loved ones, and the looks of shock and despair plastered on their face. He sniffled and let the tears run down his cheeks.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

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><p><em><strong>Death<strong>_

He passed peacefully. Matthew passed away when he was sleeping. His pain and suffering were over. He could now move on to the next life.

Name: Matthew Williams  
>Age: 19<br>Time of Death: 3:23 a.m.  
>Cause of Death: Cancer of the Brain<p>

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><p><strong><em>Inspired by the song "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance<em>**

**I'm rather pleased with how this chapter turned out. **

**As for the stages, there are five stages that most people go through when they have found out that they are going to die. The stages are listed above; _Denial, Anger, Barginning, Depression,_ and _Acceptance. _**

**Next chapter should be up sometime this week ~**


	2. Father

**Title: Cancer**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: After Matthew's death, his loved ones are told of the tragedy. This is the story of those who loved Matthew, and didn't even know he was dying.**

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><p><em><strong>Cancer - Chapter 2 - Father<strong>_

_"This is Ontario Regional Hospital. We need you to come in immediately._

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><p><em>Ontario Regional Hospital . . . ?<em>

Francis was confused as to why a Canadian hosptial was calling him while he was in France, but then it dawned on him.

_Matthew._

The frenchmen packed his bags and was able to catch the next flight to Canada. It was a long flight, and he had the dreaded-jet-lag. He was tempted to sleep, but he knew Matthew was more important. He loved his son very much. Matthew was his baby; his favourite son. He hadn't been able to visit for a while due to the tremendous amount of work he had. He had orginally planned on coming to visit the next week, but this was important.

If it was the hospital calling him, he knew something was wrong.

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><p>"Mr. Bonnefoy, I wish I could be seeing you on better terms."<p>

The doctor sat at his cherrywood desk, his hands folded and his legs crossed. His face showed no emotion whatsoever.

"W-what do you mean?"

The doctor's face morphed from an emotionless expression to one of suprise.

"You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know . . . what?"

The doctor still looked shock, like he had been shot in the back. He pushed his glasses up furthur, and closed his eyes.

"He didn't tell you." It was statement, not a question.

"Didn't tell me what? What the hell is going on?" Francis was starting to get pissed. He didn't know what thing he was supposed to know. He wanted answers, and damn it, he wanted them now.

"Mr. Bonnefoy, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this but . . . Matthew . . . is dead."

That one sentence sent Francis' world tumbling to the ground.

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><p>"H-how could this be? There's no way that could be true. I refuse to believe it. There's no way my Mattie could of died. When I walk into his house, he'll be sitting on the couch watching television. I'll prove that doctor wrong."<p>

Francis refused to believe that his dear Matthew was no longer present on this Earth. He wanted to prove the doctor wrong. So, he drove to Matthew's home. He walked to the front door and opened the mailbox, which was full of junk mail, and pulled out a key. He unlocked the door, and walked inside.

Everything around him was covered in dust. It was cold and dark, as if no one even lived here.

"Matthew? Are you home?"

He waited for the usual reply of "_Coming, papa!"_ or "_Just a minute, papa!"_

But one never came. That's when Francis' began to panic. He ran through the entire house, upstairs and downstairs. He made several laps around the house, looking for his son, but never found him.

The frenchmen had eventually worn himself out, and collasped on the sofa, a cloud of dust bursting around him. Realization finally set in for Francis. He didn't want to believe it, but he had no choice.

His dear Matthew was dead and gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

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><p>Crying was something Francis hated doing. The only times he had ever cried was when Jeanne was burned at the stake, and when his darling son Matthew passed away without even letting his papa say good-bye.<p>

Even thought he hated crying, he knew it was best to cry. If he were to keep these emotions bottled up, he would end it a complete mess. So, after he left Matthew's house and returned home, right after he walked in the door, he broke down crying. He just couldn't help himself. The sadness had overwhelmed him and he could no longer hold back the tears.

This was a good thing though. It was a good thing to mourn the loss of a loved-one.

Francis was mourning the loss of his son, who he had no idea was sick and dying until a few days ago.

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><p>Francis felt sick. He hadn't eaten or slept in days. He couldn't even keep food down, and sleep wasn't possible. He was a complete mess.<p>

He felt disgusted with himself. He just couldn't deal with the fact that his darling son; his pride and joy, Matthew, was gone forever.

It all became too much and he ran into the bathroom and hunched over the toilet. Since he hadn't eaten in days, the only thing that came up was saliva and bile. It left a horrid taste in the Frenchmen's mouth. It tasted even worse than Arthur's cooking, and that was saying something.

When it came to where there was nothing else in his stomach, Francis stood up and rinsed his mouth out with water, trying to rid the disgusting taste from his mouth.

He stepped out of the bathroom and tried walking to his bedroom. But he didn't have the strength to, so he leaned against the wall, and slid down.

He hadn't the strength nor the motovation to pull himself together.

He was too sad.

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><p>As the days went by, Francis found himself accepting Matthew's death. At first, he thought the doctor was lying and ran to Matthew's house to prove him wrong. But whenever does a doctor joke about something like that? But at the time, Francis was in shock and unable to think clearly. He ran to his son's house, in hopes of finding the Canadian sitting on the couch or sitting in the kitchen eating pancakes.<p>

But he wasn't there.

He was gone.

And now, Francis finally realized that. He accept his son's death. But, there was one thought Francis' mind pondered on every day.

_Why didn't Matthew tell him?_

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><p>Francis was at Matthew's house again. But not for the same reason as the first time. He returned to his son's home to say goodbye to his son.<p>

He knew part of his son was still in that house, and he only came to say goodbye.

He walked inside, and everything was still covered in dust, only this time it was much thicker.

"Hello, son. I've come to say goodbye."

There was no reply, nor did Francis expect one.

"I'm sorry . . . that I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you . . . _passed on_." The word "died" would of sent Francis into a fit of tears, so he tried to avoid using the word as much as possible.

"I hope you're happy where you are right now. One day, I'll join you. But today isn't that day."

Francis could almost hear the faint reply of his son's quiet voice. He knew what Matthew would say.

_"It's okay, papa. I understand your busy and all. That's okay. Atleast you come and visit me when you can. Alfred and Mom don't even do that . . . I know we'll see each other again someday, but it's not your time yet. Live your life, and don't ever forget me, please? I love you papa~"_

". . . Oh, Matthew. Who could ever forget you?"

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><p><em>Turn away . . .<br>__If you could get me a drink of water  
><em>_Cause' my lips are chapped and faded._

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><p><strong><em>Inspired by "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance. <em>**

**_Terribly sorry for the late update. I had to rewrite this because the first version was a piece of shit. I'm glad I decided to rewrite this chapter, though. I like this version better. _**

**_Also sorry for my inactive-ness lately. Tumblr kind of owns my soul now. Go and follow me. The link is on my profile. ;D_**

**_Review, please? _**


	3. Mother

**Title: Cancer**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: After Matthew's death, his loved ones are told of the tragedy. This is the story of those who loved Matthew, and didn't even know he was dying.**

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><p><em><strong>Cancer - Chapter 3 - Mother<strong>_

_"This is Ontario Regional Hospital. We need you to come in immediately."_

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><p>Ontario? Why the bloody hell would a hospital in Canada be calling Arthur, who lived in England?<p>

...

Hospital . . . Canada . . . _Matthew._

Arthur grabbed his suitcase and packed as fast as he could, and went to the airport to catch the next flight to Canada. He needed to get there quickly. He may have not shown it, but he loved Matthew dearly. Even though he forgot the boy from time to time, he still loved him. If he didn't love him, he wouldn't be flying all the way to Canada on short notice to see his son who was in the hosptial.

Thoughts began to race through the Englishman's head as he thought of his son in the hospital. Was he alright? Was he sick? Was he...? No, he didn't even want to think that. There's no way he could be dying. He would of known if he was dying.

England had no idea that he was in for a big surprise.

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><p>"Mr. Kirkland, I wish I could be speaking to you on better terms."<p>

W-what did he mean? Arthur was truely scared now. Were his worst fears coming true? Was his son really dying?

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but your son Matthew, has passed away."

That one sentence. That one short sentence, caused Arthur's world to collapse to the ground. Arthur did litterly crash to the ground. Once the doctor broke the news to him, he fainted, resulting in the doctor quickly running to catch him.

The last thing Arthur saw was the doctor and several nurses running to his sides, before his vision went black.

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><p>A few hours later, Arthur woke in a daze. He was on a hospital bed with an IV hooked up to him. He looked around, his vision blurry, and tried to figure out where the hell he was. It was only a few seconds before a nurse came in.<p>

"Oh, you're awake! That's good." she said with a rather too-happy tone.

"W-what happened?"

"You fainted. When the doctor told you the news, you fainted on the spot. You should be alright now."

The news . . . He remembered now. His son, Matthew, was dead. His worst fear had come true.

His darling son was gone... _forever._

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><p>England returned home the next day. He was silent the plane ride home. He didn't say a word in taxi cab. He didn't even bother to check the mailbox to see if anything new had arrived. He unlocked the door to his house, took a step inside and gently closed the door behind him. He dropped his suitcase and took off his shoes.<p>

He leaned against the door, took a deep breath, then slid down to floor and began to cry. There was nothing else he could do. He felt like he just needed to cry. He had held it all in since he had been told. It was too embarassing to cry in front of people, so he waited until he returned home. Now he was silently crying eyes out. The only thin he felt now were the fat, wet tears running down his red face. The Englishman pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on his kneecaps. He felt so guilty; so miserible. It was so overwhelming. He almost couldn't take it.

Arthur managed to pull himself up and dragged his feet to his bedroom. He could barely hold himself up as he collapsed onto his bed, pulling a pillow close and sliently letting the tears dampen his pillow. He didn't care if it got wet; it didn't matter.

All he wanted to do was cry, and that's all he could do.

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><p>Arthur had no idea when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, the only thing he wanted to do was to go back to sleep. But he knew he couldn't since it was noon. As soon as he sat up, his head pounded and pulsed. He got to his feet and slowly began walking to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and gasped.<p>

He was a mess. His hair was in tangles, his eyes swollen and red, his cheeks still red, and black bags were beginning to form underneath his emerald-green eyes.

He looked terrible. But somehow, he didn't care. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He didn't care about his apperence, if the house was clean, if he ate, if he smelled... none of it mattered. He never thought that this would affect him so much, but it did. He was just so miserible.

The only thing he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry, but his eyes wouldn't allow anymore tears to fall.

What was he supposed to do now?

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><p>A week passed, and Arthur was beginning to make peace with Matthew's death. He started eating more everyday, he showered everyday, he slept better, and he even managed to get out of the house a few times. But he still caught himself crying over his son's passing, but he figured that that was normal, and it was. He didn't cry as much now, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself.<p>

But that's was okay. It's okay to cry.

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><p><em><strong>Call my aunt Marie,<br>**__**Help her gather all my things  
><strong>__**And bury me in all my favorite colors...**_

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><p><strong>Inspired by <em>Cancer<em> by _My Chemical Romance_**

**This chapter is . . . meh. I have a hard time writing anything with England in it, I have no idea why.  
>Sorry for the late update. I've been kind of busy. But, anyways, hoped you enjoyed~<strong>

**Reviews are nice~ **


	4. Brother

**Title: Cancer**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: After Matthew's death, his loved ones are told of the tragedy. This is the story of those who loved Matthew, and didn't even know he was dying.**

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><p><em><strong>Cancer - Chapter 4 - Brother<strong>_

_"This is Ontario Regional Hospital. We need you to come in immediately."_

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><p>That was all he needed to hear, and Alfred was out the door. He packed his bags and raced to the airport, trying to catch the next flight to his brother's place. He was always ready to drop everything and run to help his brother with anything. I mean, come on... this was his bro. The two were actually quite close. America never forgot about his brother, he was just incredibly busy all the time. But if a Canadian hospital was calling him, he knew something was up.<p>

Now he was on-board a flight to Ontario to see his brother. The whole way there, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Why was the hospital calling him and not his brother? Was he alright? Was he sick? Was he... dying? Oh god, Alfred didn't even want to think that. He would of known if his brother was dying.

Why wouldn't his own brother not tell him he was dying?

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><p>"What happened? Tell me everything you know!"<p>

The doctor nearly jumped out of his chair at Alfred's loud outburst, but quickly collected himself and pushed his glasses furthur up the bridge of his nose.

"I wish I could be speaking to you on better terms, Mr. Jones."

W-what did he mean by that?

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alfred was beyond pissed. He grabbed the doctor by his labcoat and pulled him up to his face. "Tell me right now!"

"Mr. Jones, please calm down." The doctor tried reasoning with the American, but that was easier said then done.

"No, I will not calm down!

"I won't be able to tell you anything until you calm down, Mr. Jones!"

That certainly caught Alfred's attention. The American managed to calm himself down and took a seat infront of the doctor's desk.

Alfred took a deep breath, and folded his hands in his lap. "Okay... what is it?"

"I'm afraid to tell you this myself, but your brother, Matthew... has passed away."

Those very words made the man's heart shatter.

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><p>Alfred returned home a few hours later, throwing off his shoes and taking off his jacket. He walked up the stairs, dragging his feet along the carpet to his bedroom. He locked the door, not wanting to be disturbed, and crawled into bed. He lay underneath the covers, and wallowed in his own grief. He could feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He would not allow himself to cry.<p>

_Heroes do not cry._

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><p>It was strange. It was lunchtime, and Alfred wasn't hungry at all. He hadn't eaten anything all day, but he wasn't craving his usual hamburger and fries. He just didn't feel like eating. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and sleep for hours and hours. He hadn't left his house in days, and he had showered either. He was a mess.<p>

Thoughts raced around in his head, thinking of his dear brother. The memories they shared, the adventures they went on, the days they spent just talking and enjoying each others company.

But now, those days were gone.

No longer would Alfred see that smiling face, those sparkling violet eyes, that long curl bouncing to every step Matthew took. Alfred could feel wetness in his eyes, but he still refused to cry.

_Heroes don't cry._

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><p>He was a wreak. His hair in tangles, his pajamas in wrinkles, his usually vibrant blue eyes dull, black bags formed underneath his eyes. He looked terrible. But Alfred didn't care. He felt like there was no reason to go on. His brother was gone, dead, passed away. It was almost too much to bear. Alfred hated thinking about Matthew now. He couldn't even think of his brother without being on the verge of tears. He would never allow himself to cry. His pride wouldn't allow it.<p>

Every so often, Alfred would catch himself thinking of the Canadian. Alfred couldn't even eat pancakes with almost crying. Almost everything reminded him of Matthew. He remember the times they shared. The one time when Canada came over extra early on his birthday to make Alfred breakfast. Or when Alfred bought Matthew that white teddy-bear for his birthday one year. When he and Canada would play catch on the beach, and Matthew was just too slow to catch Alfred's fast balls, and was often hit with them instead. This resulted in Canada punching his brother, but even then he was too slow to even throw a punch. He remember when they were just little tikes, and they would run through the meadow and play tag and hide & seek. He remember the time when Alfred accidently ate one of Arthur's scones and Matthew was there to hold his air and pat his back as he vomited in the toilet.

Matthew was the best brother a person could ever have, but now he was gone forever.

Alfred felt something drip against his hand. He looked down and say that it was water.

"... Now where did that come from?"

At first he had thought the ceiling was leaking, but then he noticed that his cheeks were wet. He sweep the pads of his fingers of the flesh and saw the liquid on his fingers.

He was crying.

"... Well... I guess heroes do cry."

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><p>Now, Alfred sat on a wooden bench, holding a cup of tea in his hands. He legs were crossed and had his eyes closed. His hair was combed, his teeth brushed, his clothes were clean, and the bags under his eyes were almost non-existent. He sat in his garden, and took a deep breath. His garden was in full bloom, roses and daisies bloomed here and there. Sunflowers towered along the white picket fence and pink tulips swayed in the breeze.<p>

Alfred opened his eyes and held up his head. He looked around the garden, taking in the rainbow of color.

Alfred took a sip of his tea and closed his eyes. "... We sure did a good job, didn't we Mattie?"

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><p>Alfred learned that it was okay to cry. He refused to cry when he was first told of his brother's death, his nation-sized ego wouldn't allow it. But now that he had finally allowed himself to cry, he felt... better.<p>

He was finally able to accept his brothers death, and he could now moved on with his life.

Alfred stood on the edge of a golden wheat field. The wind blew gently and the sun was high in the sky.

"It sure is beautiful here. It kind of reminds me of when you and I were kids and we would play in the fields from when the sun came up until the sun went down. I wish we could do that again. But I know we can't do that, and I've finally been able to accept it." Alfred took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears, but no avail.

"I just... miss you so much Mattie. But... I know that I can... can go on without you. So... I just came to say goodbye..."

The dam broke and a waterfall of tears ran down his cheeks. He sniffled a bit and wiped the side of his hand against his face, trying to dry his face.

"... I love you, bro."

Then, Alfred turned around and bega walking to his car.

And, he could of heard the faintest reply of _"I love you, too, brother~"_

Alfred drove away from the sight and smiled.

"... I know, Mattie... I know."

And with that, one last tear fell from Alfred's eye.

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><p><strong><em>My sisters and my brothers, still, <em>**  
><strong><em>I will not kiss you, <em>**  
><strong><em>'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you. <em>**

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><p><em><strong>Inspired by "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance<strong>_

**This chapter is... meh. I'm not too sure about it. What do you guys think?**

**Review? :D**


	5. Funeral

**Title: Cancer**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: After Matthew's death, his loved ones are told of the tragedy. This is the story of those who loved Matthew, and didn't even know he was dying.**

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><p><em><strong>Cancer - Chapter 5 - Funeral<strong>_

It was week after his family had been informed of his death. Now, it was time for his funeral. Matthew's spared no expence, having bought the most beautful casket they could find. Callie-lillies littered the funeral home from the outside to the inside. It was beautiful, yet depressing all at once. Alfred stood outside the door, his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. He refused to look at anyone who came to give their condolences; he was afraid they'd see the tears streaming down his face.

Francis greeted every guest, having to swallow his sadness everytime he would see their pitiful faces. It pained him so much to look at their faces, filled with pity and simpathy. He didn't want their pity; their simpathy. Why would he do with that? That wouldn't bring his dear Matthew back to life.

Arthur sat in the room where Matthew's open casket lay. He held a tissue in his hands and began twiddling with his fingers. He didn't dare look at anyone; it was too embarrasing to cry infront of all these people. But, it was difficult to hold back the tears.

Matthew lay in his casket with a smile on his face. Make-up had decorated his face, since the embalming fluid made his skin look horrid. He lay in the white cushions, his hands folded onto his stomach. Only half of the casket was open, so people could view his body and say their final goodbyes.

It made Francis extremely uncomfortable to see his son in that open casket, having people view his dead son's body. He hated it, but kept his mouth shut. Alfred remained outside, watching his feet as vistors continued to walk in and out of the funeral home. Some of them tried to speak to him, but he refused to utter a sound and never rose his head. Arthur, trying to be as polite as he could, stood up and wiped his nose and eyes with the now wrinked tissue. He struggled to put a smile on his face, but succeeded none the less.

Close friends came and gave their condolences to Matthew's family. Gilber had been the first to arrive, followed by Ivan, Roderich, Elizavetta, and Kat. Gilbert never said a word, and he and Ivan had already made an agreement not to fight with each other. They decided that this was no the time or place to do so. Elizavetta was actually good friends with Matthew, and Roderich tagged along with her. He may have not know him well, but he still felt like he was a friend to Matthew. Kat had tears in her eyes. Matthew was her best friend. He was the only person who knew that she wasn't a cry baby. Most people would of made fun of her for crying, but seeing the situation, everyone kept their mouths shut.

Gilbert walked over to Matthew's casket and gazed down into it to look at Matthew's face. He brought his right hand up to brush Matthew's bangs out of his face; Matthew was cold to the touch. He stood there for a few mintues, only looking at his friend, trying to find the right words to say.

"H-hey there buddy. Long time no see." He never expected an answer. "I wish I could of seen you before you passed away. If only we had a little more time to hang out together." The Prussian swallowed thickly, trying to prevent the tears from falling down his face. "See you around bud." That's all he could say as he planted a kiss on Matthew's forehead. He couldn't even talk with his voice breaking.

Once Gilbert was away from the casket, Ivan and Kat walked over and placed a sunflower beside him. "Goodbye, Matvey. We'll miss you." The two siblings said in unison. Kat was unable to stop the tears, and the Russian allowed a single tear to fall from his violet eyes. The Russian wrapped his arm around his older sister's shoulders, trying to comfort her. The two walked away, and Elizavetta walked up with Roderich.

"Hello, Mattie. I'm sorry that I was unable to see you before you passed on." The Hungarian was trying her hardest not to cry, while her ex-husband wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tried to comfort her. He looked in the coffin to see his ex-wife's friend; dead friend. He was trying to find the right words to say, but was unable to say anything. Elizavetta could no longer hold back her tears, and let them fall silently. She wiped her eyes and walked away with her ex-husband.

One by one the guests left, having said their condolences to Matthew's family and saying their final goodbyes to their friend. When all of the vistors had left, Arthur, Francis, and Alfred had walked up to Matthew's casket.

It was Francis who broke the silence. "You know... it's funny. I always thought it would be Matthew looking at me like this. No the other way around."

Arthur let another tear fall from his emerald-green eyes. "Yeah."

Alfred never said a word. He only looked at his brother. Alfred always thought he'd die before his brother, having died doing something awesome or as Matthew would see it, stupid. He never thought he'd see the say where he'd be staring at his brother in his casket. Alfred still had trouble accepting his brother's death, but as he stared at Matthew in the coffin, he was finally beginning to realize and accept that his brother was gone. Alfred never wanted to come to the funeral, but he knew he needed to. The funeral gave him closure, and now, he finally accepted that his dead brother was gone forever.

The same went for Arthur and Francis. Neither had wanted to have a funeral for Matthew; they thought it would be too hard. But, they knew that they had to. For their friends, for Alfred, for themselves. They needed the closure.

And now, as they stood by Matthew's casket, they all finally accepted the death of Matthew Williams; a son, a brother, a friend.

Alfred was the first to break down, his legs giving out and he was unable to prevent the tears from falling. Alfred's break down had caused a chain reaction; Arthur had gotten on his knees and wrapped his arms around his other son, letting the tears fall silently. Francis couldn't take it anymore, and hugged his remaining family, letting the tears fall.

This is what they needed. They needed each other right now. They needed to cry together. They needed to grieve together. They needed comfort from each other.

This is what they were missing. They needed to be a family, and it almost killed them to realize that a piece of their was now gone forever.

* * *

><p>It was the next day, around nine or so in the morning. Alfred and his family were at the cemetery. A few hours earlier, they had taken Matthew from the funeral home, and put him in the ground. The family had stood at Matthew's grave, letting the wind blow their hair around. They looked at Matthew's headstone, reading what it said silently in their heads.<p>

_Matthew Williams  
>July 1, 1982 - April 5, 2011<br>Son - Brother - Friend  
>May he rest in peace~<em>

Arthur was unable to take it anymore, and walked to the car. Francis followed him, trying to comfort his wife. Alfred kneeled down onto one knee and placed a red tulip on his brothers grave.

"I'll see you later, bro. I hope you're happy in the place your in now."

Alfred stood and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair once again. And Alfred swore, that on that day, he swore he could hear his brother reply, "I love you, brother~"

Alfred let one final tear leave his eye as he looked up to the sky.

"I love you too, Mattie."

And with that, Alfred walked to his own car, and drove away, and he cried the whole way home.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Now turn away, <strong>_  
><em><strong>'Cause I'm awful just to see <strong>_  
><em><strong>'Cause all my hairs abandoned all my body, <strong>_  
><em><strong>Oh, my agony, <strong>_  
><em><strong>Know that I will never marry, <strong>_  
><em><strong>Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo<strong>_  
><em><strong>But counting down the days to go<strong>_  
><em><strong>It just ain't living...<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Inspired by <em>"Cancer"<em> by _My Chemical Romance_**

I had a bit of difficultly writing this chapter, but I managed to do it. I'm actually satisfied with this chapter. As for Matthew's birth-year (1982), I got that from somewhere, don't quite remember where, but if it's incorrect, I'm sorry.

Now, I know what you're thinking... _"Is this the last chapter? D:"_

And the answer is, No. This is not the last chapter. I still have one more surprise for all of you. ;D

So stay tuned~


	6. No More Tears

_**Cancer - Chapter 6 - No More Tears**_

It had been atleast a month since Matthew's funeral. Life moved on for his family. Arthur had moved back in with Francis, feeling like he needed the extra emotional support, and Alfred developed a hobby to help keep his mind of his brother; photography.

It was a day like any other. It was autumn, and the trees were turning from green to all differents shades of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns. The grass was beginning to yellow and the cool, crisp autumn air pushed leaves along the ground. Alfred loved the sound of crunching leaves under his feet; Autumn was his favourite season.

He was returning home from his walk, which was now part of his daily routine. He loved the fall scenery, and had decided to take a few pictures before the colorful screne would be blanketed in white. He arrived at his home, and noticed that the flag was up on his mailbox. He opened the flap and reached in to find a small white envlope in the back of the tin box. It had no return address.

Alfred raised in eyebrow in confusion, but shrugged it off. He stepped into the house, his eyes still on his mail. He slipped off his sneakers and put his camera on the coffee table. He ran his fingers along the back of the envlope, trying to decide whether or not to open it. Curiosity got the best of his, and slip his fingers underneath the folds, and torn the envlope open, taking out the lined piece of paper on the inside.

He unfolded the paper to find the most beautiful handwriting he had ever seen. He only knew one person who could write this well, and it made tears well up in his eyes. he knew he would regret it, but he began reading the letter.

_Dear Alfred,_

_I've written this letter a thousand times, but I just couldn't find the write words to say. I know that it would probably be easier just telling you in person, but I know how busy you are, and I didn't want to bother you. I'm not sure how to word this exactly, so I'll just say it. Alfred, six months ago, I was diagnosed with brain cancer and it was proclaimed terminal. I wish I had told you sooner, but deep down inside, I know that this is the best way to tell you. I wish we could of spent a little bit more time together before I... well, you know. _

_I love you so much, brother. I'll miss you._

_Love, _

_Your dear brother, Matthew~_

Wet tears dropped on to the lined paper, making the ink run. The tears ran down his face in steams, and he couldn't stop them from falling. How... how could he have been so selfish? How could he let himself get so busy that he neglected his own brother? He dropped his head into his hands, and sobbed. Alfred didn't want to admit it, but ever since he learned of Matthew's death, he had become an emotional train-wreak. He could barely tak the sadness. He missed his brother so much, and it was impossible to bring him back.

That last thought became too much for Alfred to bare. He couldn't take this anymore. He could no longer take the sadness, the pain, the empty feeling inside him. He wanted to end it all. He wanted to end his life.

He stormed into the kitchen, pulling open a drawer, and pulled out a knife. He let the cool blade slice his skin, letting it burrow deep. He did the same for his other wrist, and let the blood run free from his body. He slid to the floor, and closed his eyes, letting darkness take his vision, and letting death take his soul.

* * *

><p><em>Beep... Beep...<em>

What... what's that beeping noise? Where am I? Am I dead? What's going on?

Alfred jerked himself up, taking in gasps of air. He had no idea where he was or what was going on, and he was starting to panic. But soon calmed down when he saw Francis and Arthur next to his bed.

"Alfred, calm down. It's okay." Arthur's voice was so calm and assuring. It was strange, but not unwelcomed.

"Wh-what happened?" Alfred asked. The last thing he remember was cutting his wrists, and letting himself die on his kitchen floor.

"You... you tried to... commit suicide." It took all of his strenght not to cry, but Arthur managed to hold back his tears for now. "We came over to see how you were doing. We saw the door was unlocked and we sort of let ourselves in."

"We called out for you, but you never answered. Arthur went to go look in the kitchen and I looked upstairs. That's when I heard him scream, and I ran downstairs to see you on the floor, half dead in your own pool of blood." Small droplets began to form in the corner of Francis' eyes.

"We immeditially called 911 and the ambulence came and brought you here. Oh god, ha we not dropped by, you- you-" It was just too much. Arthur already lost one of his children, and the thought of losing another one was too much, and he broke down crying right next to Alfred's bed. Francis came around from the other side to comfort his wife, letting his own tears fall silently as the Englishmen dampened his shirt.

Seeing his mother cry was one thing, but making his mother cry was another. Alfred knew it was no use trying to hold back the waterworks and let the tears fall from his eyes down his cheek and along his jawline, letting them fall onto his hospital gown. Francis had noticed the American crying, and poked Arthur on the shoulder sofly. Said Englishmen brought his head up from Francis' chest to look back at his son, who was crying his eyes out. He looked rather pathetic, but then again, so did they.

They had already lost one son, and damnnit, they were not about to lose another.

* * *

><p>With the help of anti-depressants and therapy, Alfred's mental health was improving tremendously. He had moved with with Arthur and Francis; the two were afraid he'd try and kill himself again if he stayed by himself. They had spent many nights holding Alfred as he cried. They took him and even went with him to his therapy sessions, and helped him cope with his depression. Alfred, at first, was uncomfortable with all the attention he was recieving from them, fearing he was too much of a bother to them, but Arthur and Francis quickly put that thought to rest.<p>

A few weeks after he was released from the hospital, Alfred had had another breakdown, and tried to once again commit suicide. But, thankfully, Francis was there with him and stopped Alfred from swallowing the entire bottle of pills. Arthur and Francis hated the thought of Alfred being at home by himself, so one of them would always be home with him.

Francis knocked the pills out of the American's hand, making them drop in the floor, scattering everywhere. Alfred only stood there, but then slid to his knees with his head in his hands. The Frenchmen kneeled down and wrapped his arms around his son as he sobbed and cried into his shirt.

"I-'m so sorry..." Alfred choked out over and over again.

Francis kissed the top of his head, and ran his fingers through the American's soft hair. "Shh... it's okay. No more tears. _No more tears_."

* * *

><p><strong><em>And I just hope you know<em>**  
><strong><em>That if you say <em>**  
><strong><em>Goodbye today <em>**  
><strong><em>I'd ask you to be true...<em>**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by <strong>"Cancer"<strong> by **My Chemical Romance**_

I hate writing about cutting. Personally, I don't see how cutting can help people with pain when it causes more pain, but you know that's just me. This chapter was a little easier to write. I have depression and I take pills and go to therapy. I've never had a suicide attempt, though.

Damn, I'm updating the story like it's nobody's business. BD

Review? Kthanx bai. /shot


	7. Epilogue

_**Cancer - Chapter 7 - Epilogue **_

"Hey guys, just thought I'd stop by and talk a bit."

It was October. The cool air nipped at Alfred's nose and ears, and leaves blew across his feet as he walked through the cemetary. He stopped when he came to three graves, all aligned perfectly. Red, blue, and white roses stood infront of the large tombstones. Alfred had gotten onto his knees and wiped away the soggy leaves covering the names on the stone.

_Matthew Williams  
>July 1, 1982 - April 5, 2011<br>Son - Brother - Friend  
>May he rest in peace~<em>

_Francis Bonneyfoy  
><em>_July 14, 1965 - June 17, 2016  
><em>_Father - Husband - Friend  
><em>_Let the angels take him away~_

_Arthur Kirkland  
><em>_April 24, 1966 - May 8, 2017  
><em>_Mother - Wife - Brother - Friend  
><em>_Take his soul to a better place~_

Five years after Matthew passed away, Francis died of a heart attack. Arthur passed a year later of pneumonia, leaving Alfred all by himself. But actually, he wasn't all alone. A year before Francis died, Alfred had completed his psychiatric treatment and no longer had to take pills. During the past few years, Alfred had been going to college and studing to become a doctor.

"College is going great. I have some exams coming up, so I've been a little high-strung. But, I know I'll do fine."

Alfred imagined Arthur scowling him for working too hard. _"Take a break! I don't want you to tire yourself out!"_

A tiny smile spread across the American's face. "I've also met someone."

Alfred then imagined Francis screaming in joy. _"Oh 'ow wonderful~ So, when do we get to meet the young man or lady?"  
><em>Then Arthur cme up again. _"Calm down, you git! Let the boy finish talking for once!"_

_"Oh, I'm sorry~ I'm just so excited!"_

While he was at college, he had met a nice Japanese boy named Kiku. The American instantly fell in love, the other... not so much. The black-haired boy was very shy and didn't like to talk much. He rejected Alfred's first advances, but after a few times, he began warming up to the American. The two began to date and now lived in an apartment together in Washington, D.C.

"His name is Kiku; Honda Kiku. He's from Japan."

_"Ooh, how nice~ Congrats Alfred!"_

A new voice appeared in the American's head, one he had not heard for a very, very long time. _"M-Mattie..."_

Alfred told his deceased family all about his boyfriend, and even spilled a little secret about asking Kiku's hand in marriage. Had Francis been alive, he would of screamed in joy and ruined the entire surprise. But Alfred wouldn't of minded. He wouldn't of minded at all.

The sky had turned from orange to purple quickly, and Alfred knew it was getting late. He stood to his feet, and brushed the leaves off of his trousers before saying his goodbyes.

"It's time for me to go, but I promise t-that I'll be back s-soon."

He then turned and walked to his car, letting the tear fall silently down his face and onto his red sweatshirt. He opened the door and gotten in on the passenger side.

"I'm sorry for making you wait."

Kiku moved his his hands to his lover's face, gently wiping the tears. "That's alright."

The American wouldn't have been able to stop crying had Kiku not been there to comfort him. Alfred would of sat there, crying for hours, but instead, felt the waterworks stop and hugged the smaller male tightly, whispering a small "I love you~" into his ear.

"I love you, too. Alfred. I love you too." Even Kiku let a single tear fall from his eyes. The two broke apart and Alfred started the car, and drove out of the cemetary.

Before the had left, Alfred looked out his rear-view mirror, and until his dying day, he could of sworn he say his family standing there, waving goodbye.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Cause' the hardest part of this is leaving you...<em>**

* * *

><p>That last sentence... is the only thing I like about this chapter. |:<p>

/adds AmePan at the last minute because I can.

I'm sorry if there are any misspellings or mistakes, like everyone's birthdays and all that shit.

Oh well, it's the end. You know, I have to say that this story was a lot more popular than I thought it would be. I got so many reviews saying that this story is amazing, I'm crying, this is beautiful. All of your reviews touched my heart. I'd also like to thank everyone who favourited, followed, and reviewed this story. It means so much to me.

I've said it several times now, but goddamnit I'm gonna say it again. THANK. YOU. SO. MUCH.

Peace out~!


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